


Morals

by Souliebird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souliebird/pseuds/Souliebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything is as black and white as Tim would like to believe it is and Tim finds himself in the most unexpected place, talking to the most unexpected person, as he tries to work out what is right and what is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morals

Tim was lost. He was so morally confused and conflicted and had no idea what he should do. He had no idea why he was even so confused, which made things so much worse. 

He couldn't talk to Bruce about it because he knew where Bruce stood. Bruce would look him straight in the eye and tell him what the 'right' thing to do was. Which killed Tim inside, because he was not sure that the 'right' thing to do was actually the right thing to do. 

This was a moral grey ground that Tim had never encountered before. 

He wanted to talk it out with someone, without being judged. 

So maybe that is how he wound up at an abandoned church in the slums. 

Tim didn't believe in God, but the idea of talking to someone, even if that someone wasn't really there, and not be subjected to glares and questions seemed really appealing to Tim. Tim really wanted to talk out loud, because he was sure he would just end up lost in his mind otherwise, and talking to God was better than talking to himself. 

It felt wrong to sit in the pews, even if they were covered in cob webs, so Tim sat up in a triforium, with his legs dangling over the ledge. The church was long out of use, and Tim was in the shadows, so he didn't feel too bad when he pulled off his domino and laid it in his lap.

“Hi, God.” He couldn't help but smile a little. This seemed really silly. He didn't even believe in a higher power. “If you exist, at all. But if you do, I suppose a domino won't keep you from knowing who I am, will it?” He half heartedly poked at the mask, before leaning back against the cold marble and looking up at the vaulted ceiling. “And if you exist, you probably know what I did tonight. Or didn't do. Which is why I am here, I guess. Because I need to know...did I do the right thing? Was there a right thing to do?” 

Tim closed his eyes and thought over what had transpired over the last hour. He knew he would get lost in his own thoughts if he didn't keep talking out loud, though. He had to focus on getting the words out. Sometimes, things were more clear if you spoke the words instead of just thinking them.

“I can't rely on a probably, God. Sorry. Of all the things that go on in the universe, I can't really expect you to keep one eye always on Gotham or on me. But you're supposed to be all knowing, right? That's not an insult, by the way. There's just so much always going on, some stuff must get lost in the shuffle.” Tim shook his head a little bit. “I'm sorry, I'm getting side tracked. Wait, why am I apologizing? Never mind. Anyways. To the point.”

Tim cleared his throat and tried to not think why he did that. No one was really listening to him. “There was a guy tonight...He came out of the sewers, I think, and was just going nuts, attacking people, cars, smashing windows. He was a danger. I heard it on the scanner, so I went to check it out. But they never mentioned....they didn't mention the guy was wrong. I don't even know how to explain it, because I don't know if he was in some sort of accident, or if he was a Meta, or what. But he was just wrong. He looked like half of him was melting. And not like Dent, where he looked like he was half melted. He looked like he was melting, like part of him was candle wax and parts of him were just ready to drop off, but they never did. They would just go back into him, then start melting off again. And he was screaming, and it was angry, but it was sad, and he sounded like he was hurting. I don't know.” 

Tim fiddled his domino and looked down at it. He turned it over a few times, ran his thumb along its edges, before continuing. 

“I didn't want to hurt him, but I knocked him on his ass. Oops. Butt? Am I allowed to cuss in here? I don't think I should. Sorry. But, anyways, I knocked him down and he stopped screaming. He looked at me and I could tell he was in a lot of pain. I just knew. Physical and emotional pain. And then he started talking and it was like his voice was melting, too, you know? It was awful....” 

Tim trailed off and sat in silence. Just talking out loud was already making him feel better. Maybe he didn't have to go on to the next part. But...he knew...he knew he had to . He had to figure out if he had done the right thing. 

“He said he was in pain. I know I should know the exact words he used, but I keep kind of blocking them out. He was in so much pain. His body was in pain, and he wasn't able to control himself. He wanted to hurt people and smash things and doing that made the pain not as bad. He wanted to hurt everyone because he was in so much pain. And I don't think it was just his body that hurt. He made it seem like it was his mind, too. Like his mind was ripping in half and part of him wanted to just hurt people because he could. But the other half, the good half, didn't want that. He didn't want to hurt any one else.” 

Tim dropped his domino into his lap and put his head into his hands.

“So he asked me to kill him. He asked me to end his pain and to make sure he couldn't hurt anyone else. And he was so serious about it. He wanted me to kill him.”

His body began to shake, because Tim didn't know what to do and it was so frustrating. “No one has ever asked me that before. Not in that way. They joke about it, you know, 'What are you going to do, kill me?' and stuff like that. But no one has ever looked me in the eye and said 'kill me'. How are you supposed to react to that? How are you supposed to act when someone tells you they are in so much pain that they just want it to end?” 

He looked up from his hands and he could feel the tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. “How do you do it, God? I could tell he was being completely serious and honest. He wanted to die. But...I couldn't do it. Batman has always told me that killing is not an option. But this wasn't the same thing. This wasn't revenge, or stopping the bad guy. This was someone whose body was melting and I can't even imagine how painful that must be. Someone whose mind was cracking and wanted to fight back by ending it all. When he wakes up in Arkham, I know, I can feel it, he's going to try to kill himself if the good part of him has any control. I can see his eyes when I close mine. He was begging me to kill him and I just knocked him out.” Tim scrubbed the tears away. “Did I do the right thing? What if he wakes up and realizes he doesn't want to die? Or what if he wakes up and he does? I really think he does, God. If you're all knowing, you know that. Even if it's a sin or whatever, he wanted to die. And I didn't give him that. I could have helped him. I could have snapped his neck so easily and let the pain end. But what if I've now forced him into more and more pain? Is that my fault? I went against what he wanted.” 

Tim sniffed and felt so stupid for getting so emotional but he was just so confused. “I've read about it, you know, about assisted suicide and the right to die. That people who are terminally ill or in so much chronic pain, that they choose suicide and ask doctors for help. But I'm not a doctor. I'm just some guy in a spandex suit and a cape. I'm just a teenager! But I shouldn't be able to decide for someone whether or not they get to die if they want to die. It's different from keeping someone from killing someone else. I mean, it's different with depression and stuff...but..I don't even know. This guy was in so much pain and he wanted to die. Was I right to keep him alive? Did I really save him? I really don't feel like I did, God. I don't feel like I saved him at all...but..I couldn't have lived with myself if I was the one to end his life. I couldn't have that on my conscious. What would Batman think of me? What would I think of me? I never want to kill anyone, not intentionally. It's not the right thing to do...but...what if, in this case, it was the right thing to do? I think it was...” Tim sighed and pushed his hands through his hair. “I just...I can't do the right thing. I can't. As much as I want to help this guy. I can't. I can't. God, I really wished I could. I wish I could go there and ask this guy 'Do you really want to die?' and if he said yes....God I wish I could just do it. But I can't. Does that make me a bad person?”

Tim brought one leg up to his chest and hugged it. He hugged it tightly because he needed to hug something and he there was nothing, no one else around to hug. And he could never tell Bruce or Dick about this, because he didn't want to see the look of disappointment on their faces. 

His comm chimed in his ear and Oracle asked for his assistance in something or other. Tim didn't really catch it. He pushed his domino back onto his face and left the shadows of the church for the shadows of Gotham.

 

As Tim left, Jason stepped out into the nave, canting his head to one side. He had a solemn look on his face, which was hidden by his helmet. He had seen someone come into the church, and had followed them, expecting it to be a couple of teenagers wanting to screw around. Red Robin confessing his heart out had been the last thing Jason thought he would have encountered. 

Jason's fingers twitched around the strap of his gun holster. 

It didn't take long to get to Arkham and find the person Tim had been describing. Jason wondered if the guards were ever going to get used to having new inmates randomly show up. 

Tim had been kind in his words at the church because Jason thought the guy looked like a fucking monster. Tim had been correct in the saying the guy looked like he was melting, but that didn't even begin to describe it. His skin was pink, and raw, and it bubbled and looked like it was dripping off of him, only to be sucked back up with a disgusting 'squelch'. Where his eyes, and nose, and mouth were, the muscles under the skin could be seen when the skin started to drip. His eyes would sag, then snap back, and his teeth and gums would be exposed until his lips returned to hide them for a few seconds. It was repulsive. 

The man, if Jason could even still call it that, was starting to wake. He started to moan and Jason recognized the sound as pure agony. 

The melting man realized he wasn't alone and turned to look at Jason.

“Who are you?” 

“Do you want to die?” 

The man blinked at Jason, which was highly disturbing given his eye was half way down his cheek, then answered with no hesitation and all certainty. “Yes.”

Jason raised his gun and fired three times.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by 'Evil Twin' by Viva La Union.


End file.
